Jahane Rumi In search of the unsearchable: O, my soul! where would you find your house?

15Mar/101

I am a child of love

I profess the religion of love,
Love is my religion and my faith.
My mother is love
My father is love
My prophet is love
My God is love
I am a child of love
I have come only to speak of love

- Jalaluddin Rumi

13Mar/101

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa (The cloud weeps…)

Amir Khusrau's lofty couplet

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa
Choon kunam dil becheneen roz zedildar judaa.
Abr baraan wa man-o yar satadah ba-widaa
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa

The cloud weeps, and I become separated from my friend -
How can I separate my heart from my heart's friend on such a day.
The cloud weeping, and I and the friend standing, bidding farewell -
I weeping separately, the clouds separately, the friend separately..

(trans. A. Schimmel)

Also see this

3Mar/101

Lovers have nothing to do with existence

The lover's food is the love of the bread;
no bread need be at hand:
no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.
Lovers have nothing to do with existence;
lovers have the interest without the capital.
Without wings they fly around the world;
without hands they carry the polo ball from the field.
That dervish who caught the scent of Reality
used to weave baskets even though his hands had been cut off.
Lovers have pitched their tents in nonexistence;
they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
19Feb/103

I am enslaved to fate, of all else say no more – Rumi

" I am enslaved to fate, of all else say no more

With a sweet tongue speak, else I plea say no more

Speak not of troubles, of treasures, tell me more

And if of this you know not, be not troubled, say no more

I have gone insane, Love found me, then whispered in my ear

'I am here, cry not aloud, curse yourself not, say no more'

I said ' O Love it is other than Thee that I fear'

Said ' it may thus appear, yet it is not so, say no more

I speak in you ear, to you bring secrets near

Speak with your head, confirm a nod, say no more'

I asked, ' What do I see? Is it an angel or a man? '

Said ' no more an angel than a man, is another, say no more'

'Tell me what it is, why withhold, why the flames of my torment fan'

Said ' just be tormented, confused, say no more

For leaving this colorful and false abode, you have made no plan

Rise up and just depart, leave this home, say no more'

Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi

30Jan/100

A poem by Sarmad

A special friend sent this poem via Facebook. I have read it again and again..hope the readers like it too

Along the road, you were my companion
Seeking the path, you were my guide

No matter to whom I spoke, it was you who answered
When Sun called Moon to Sky, it was you who shined

In the Night of aloneness, you
were my comforter

When I laughed, you were the smile on my lips
When I cried, you were the tears on my face

When I wrote, you were the verse
When I sang, you were the song

Rarely did my heart desire another lover
Then when it did, you came to me in the other.

28Sep/090

Don’t talk about the journey (Rumi)

come come come
my endless desires
come come come
come my beloved
come my sweetheart
15Sep/091

What a fine, broad kingdom

Another fine poem by Rumi - translation followed by the original

In the world there are invisible ladders,

leading step by step to the summit of heaven.

There is a different ladder for every group,

a different heaven for every path.

Each one is ignorant of the other's condition in this wide kingdom which

has no end or beginning.

6Jul/093

Bulleh Shah – on rejecting caste

A popular kafi of Bulleh Shah, sung by Abida Parveen "BULHE NU SAMJHAWAN AAINAN BHAINAN TE BHARJAIAN" earlier posted as " A stove is better than Bulleh" am posting its english translation thanks to Shahidain's invaluable contributions.

People discouraged Bulleh Shah from accepting  Inayat Shah as his master and said " Bulleh you are a scholar and a descendent of of prophet Mohammad (pbuh). Does it seem right to you to go to an ordinary gardener of low caste and become his disciple? Is it not embarrassing?" But Bulleh showed great love and reverence for his master and did not pay any heed to this objection.

15Jun/092

Spinning with your love

I am filled with splendor,
spinning with your love.

It looks like I'm spinning around you,
but no – I'm spinning around myself!

Rumi's Quatrain 1118

-- Version by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise
Bantam Books, 1992

10Jun/090

Thou art wine and I am water

Before such spirit-bestowing Beauty, how should
I not die? How should I not go mad and seize hold of Thy
chainlike tresses?
When I drink Thy wine, how should I not be
obliterated? Thou art wine and I am water, Thou art honey
and I am milk.

14May/090

Enthralled only by love

whenever you meet
someone deep drunk
yet full of wisdom
be aware and watch
this person is enthralled
only by love

7Mar/0910

“Desecration of Rahman Baba’s tomb is desecration of humanity”

The SCN press release echoes my sentiments at the disgusting act of vandalism in Peshawar. It is a befitting metaphor for the barbaric bigotry and the ineffectual state - a dangerous mix.

It is a matter of national shame for Pakistan to have sunk this low. Rahman Baba (1653 -1711 AD) commands a universal following for his mystic syncretism, has now fallen prey to the cannibalistic doctrine of bigotry and intolerance.

2Oct/080

In this game of chess

I was first seduced by love
then put in a fire of agonies
as i won the mastery
of the beloved
the beloved dropped me
and was gone

--Translation by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Dancing the Flame
Cal-Earth Press, 2001

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First, he tempted me
with infinite caresses.
He burnt me in the end
with pain and sorrow.
In this game of chess
I had to lose myself
in order to win Him.

-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Whispers of the Beloved
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1999

24Sep/080

This Love — Quatrain from Rumi

This Love is the king,
yet a throne cannot be found.
It is the essence of the Koran
yet a verse cannot be found.
Any lover hit by the Hunter's arrow
will bleed all over,
yet a wound cannot be found.

-- Version by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
"A Garden Beyond Paradise"
Bantam Books, 1992

1Jul/080

A World with No Boundaries

With every breath the sound
of love surrounds us,
and we are bound for the depths
of space, without distraction.

We've been in orbit before
and know the angels there.
Let's go there again, Master,
for that is our land.

1May/086

Love Stories of the Risalo of Shah Latif – Noori Jam-Tamachee

Contribution by Naveed Siraj

The Risalo of Shah Latif is divided into chapters called Surs which are composed on the lines of musical notes. Each sur is based on symbols taken from stories which are part of Sindhi folklore. Sur Kamod in the Risalo of Shah Latif is based on the love story of Noori Jam-Tamachee:

Noori Jam-Tamachee

King Jam Tamachi was a Samo ruler of lower Sind at the end of the 14th century A.D. While on a shooting expedition, he chanced to see a fisher girl named Noori, falling madly in love with her and offered to married her, his love for her blind to the social disparity between them.

When they returned back to his capital, he was made aware of the general disapproval of this match. He merely observed that the detractors did not know her as much as he did. In order to display her character and appease the cynics, one day, he announced to his queens, that he would take one of them for a ride on an outing.

14Apr/0815

A poem of love and longing by Parveen Shakir

I rediscovered this exquisite poem by Parveen Shakir after years. This is an intense love poem of rare beauty. It is composite, taut and melodic. I have tried to translate it - however, the impossibility of a translation haunts me..

More so, the reality of days gone by, the visions lost haunts me even more..

Dedicated to those who stand by the sea of evening colours and moods and want to merge with their expanse. And, to someone who lives with time present and time past with equal ease..

yay haseen shaam apni

yay haseen shaam apni
abhi jiss meiN ghul rahi hai
teray parahan kee khushboo
abhi jiss meiN khil rahay heiN
meray khawab kay shagoofay
zera dair ka hai manzar

zera dair meiN ufq par
khilay ga koi sitaara
teri simt daik kar woh
karay ga koi ishara
teray dil ko aayay ga phir
kissi yaad ka bullawa
koi qissa-ay judaaee, koi kaar-ay naamukamal
koi khawab-ay naa shagufta, koi baat kehnay wali

humeiN chaahiyay tha milna
kissi ahad-ay mehrbaaN meiN
kissi khawab kay yaqeeN meiN
kissi aur aasmaaN par
kissi aur sarzameeN meiN
humeiN chahiyay tha milna...

Here is the odd translation rendered by this blogger.

This melting evening of ours
Where everything dissolves
the scent of your clothes
the blossoming
sprouts of my dreams

All dissolves

A deferred vision, this is

In a little while,
a star will emerge on the horizon
To gaze at you
Meaningfully...!
Your heart shall then reminisce
the echo of a memory
The tale of a separation,
Of an unfinished moment
Of unblossomed dreams, things unsaid

We ought to have met
In times, considerate
In pursuit of attainable dreams
On a different sky
On a different earth
We ought to have met

Picture by Raza Rumi

29Sep/071

The Song of the Reed – on Rumi’s birth anniversary

Listen to the song of the reed,
How it wails with the pain of separation:

"Ever since I was taken from my reed bed
My woeful song has caused men and women to weep.
I seek out those whose hearts are torn by separation
For only they understand the pain of this longing.
Whoever is taken away from his homeland
Yearns for the day he will return.
In every gathering, among those who are happy or sad,
I cry with the same lament.
Everyone hears according to his own understanding,
None has searched for the secrets within me.
My secret is found in my lament
But an eye or ear without light cannot know it.."

The sound of the reed comes from fire, not wind
What use is one's life without this fire?
It is the fire of love that brings music to the reed.
It is the ferment of love that gives taste to the wine.
The song of the reed soothes the pain of lost love.
Its melody sweeps the veils from the heart.
Can there be a poison so bitter or a sugar so sweet
As the song of the reed?
To hear the song of the reed
everything you have ever known must be left behind.

-- Version by Jonathan Star
"Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved"
Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997

Courtesy Sunlight where more versions can be found.

29Aug/0710

Sahir Ludhianvi’s Taj Mahal

Sahir Ludhianvi's immortal poem Taj Mahal has always fascinated me. It takes a most unconventional take at this beautiful monument where the poet protests at the choice of a romantic rendezvous.

Today, I found a lovely translation of this poem. I am reproducing it below - but first a few lines from Urdu:

Yeh chaman zar yeh jamna ka kinara yeh mahal
Yeh munaqqash dar-o-deevar yeh mehrab yeh taaq
Aik shahanshah nay daulat ka sahara lay ker
Hum ghareebon kee mohabbat ka uraya hai mazaaq

Taj Mahal

The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!

How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
'Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren't truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.

These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor's very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.

This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.

Translation by K.C. Kanda, appeared in Masterpieces of Urdu Nazm published by Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd. - found here

20Jun/073

Enough of learning, my friend! – Bulleh Shah

Enough of learning, my friend!

Enough of learning, my friend!

To it there is never an end

An alphabet should do for you,

It's enough to help you fend.

You've amassed much learning around,

The Quran and its commentaries profound.

There is darkness amidst lighted ground.

Without the guide you remain unsound.

Learning makes you a Sheikh or his minion,

And thus you create problems trillion.

You exploit others who know not what,

Misleading them with wild opinion.

You meditate and you say your prayers

You go and shout at the top of the stairs.

Your cry reaching the high skies,

Its your avarice which ever belies.

The day I learnt love's lesson,

I plunged into the river of divine passion;

An overwhelming gale, I was confounded and lost

When Shah Inayat cruised me across.

Source: here

More on Bulleh Shah here and here

Punjabi version is below

18Jun/073

Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai

If you are seeking Allah

If you are seeking Allah,
Then keep clear of religious formalities.
Those who have seen Allah
Are away from all religions!
Those who do not see Allah here,
How will they see Him beyond?

Let us go the land of Kak
Where love flows in abundance,
There are no entrances, no exits,
Every one can see the Lord!

There is no light nor day
Every one can see the Lord!
Those who love the Lord
The world cannot hold them.
Palaces do not attract them,
Nor women nor servants
Nothing binds them:
The renouncers leave everything behind.

A message came from the Lord:
A full moon shone
Darkness disappeared
A new message came from the Lord:
It does not matter what caste you are
Whoever come, are accepted.

Where shall I take my camel,
All is Light...
Inside there is Kak, mountain and valley,
The Lord and the Lord: there is nothing but the Lord.

(translated from Sindhi by D. H. Butani)

Legacy of Shah Latif is a recent book on Bhitai's life and works. In a recent book review, Anwar Abro writes:

"Two and a half centuries after his death, the celebrated Sindhi philosopher-poet Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai (1689-1752 AD) continues to inspire and influence the lives and activities of the peace-loving mystic souls of Sindh. Intellectual activities, social, political or ideological discourses are considered meaningless without the recitation of his poetry. Shah Latif has become an essential part of the day-to-day life of the people of Sindh so much so that everyone wants to find out more about his life, his principles and beliefs and discover the true interpretation of his mesmerisingly meaningful poetry..."

read more here

Picture above right is courtesy Himal Magazine

21May/076

Abida Parveen sings Bulleh Shah’s teray ishq nachaya..

As I recited Bulleh Shah's poetry this evening, a friend sent a link to another video of Abida Parveen singing Bulleh's mystic poetry in her inimitable style. Lo and behold, I also found an online translation of the verse:

Here is a translation of the verse rendered in this video:

O Physician, come back! my life is ebbing away.
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.

This love has set up camp inside me.
It is I, who filled the cup with this poison and drank it.
Come back right away, else, I will surely die.
Compelled by love, I dance, I dance.

The sun has set, its glow remains.
Grant me a sight of you again! I would die for it!
What a mistake I made, not going with you.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.

Mother do not bar me from this love.
Whoever turns back unloaded boats that have left?
How foolish I was, not going with the boatman.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.

Peacocks sing in the groves of love.
My beautiful beloved is my Ka'ba, my Qibla.
He injured me, then turned away.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.

Bullhe Shah, I sit at Inayat's door,
He clothed me in robes of green and red.
When I stamped my heel, I found him.
Compelled by love I dance, I dance.

(and now the video).

Here is the source of translation

For another version of Punjabi and English, please click here.

17Feb/078

Dating in Pakistan (rambling on the Valentine’s Day)

Mayank Austen Soofi in Delhi is an interesting character. A good writer and a prolific blogger, he is also fascinated by Pakistan. One of his blogs is called Pakistan Paindabad.

Read article here >>

5Jan/071

Nizamuddin Auliya – for Marta Franceschini

My post on the pictures of Nizamuddin Auliya's dergah (shrine) attracted a visitor whose devotion to the great Nizamuddin is quite touching. Marta wrote:

"...picture of the Dargha is next to my bed, first thing I see in the morning and last in the evening. .... No one ever loved me like he does. To experience the power of his love is something impossible to express with words, something that has changed completely the perspective of my life."

Commenting further on the pictures, Marta said:

".....The best gift for Christmas. I am not muslim, nor christian, or anything else, but however my heart is full of love for God which, I am sure, is One and Overwhelming. And does embrace me all time long. If my presence doesn't offend anyone in your site I will be glad to come back again, and possibly talk to anyone close to the Great Chisthy Saint."

Her full comment can be found here

I visited this remarkable place recently spending my evenings and all the spare time at the shrine. I have met more and more people at the dergah including a devotee who also runs the Sufi Inayat Khan Center nearby. I will write more about that later.

Now that I have had some time to sort out my pictures, I am posting a few more here. These are dedicated to Marta and I hope she will find them inspiring again...

And this is the last one - the renovated mosque that looks ethereal in the night time.

3Oct/063

My blog is a stranger to me & Mir – saare aalam mein bhar raha hai ishq

What dependent creatures we are..

Since last week, there is no power supply at my house. It has been a time of reflection and getting back to books in dim candle lit rooms. Refreshingly quaint but this has meant that my blog is a stranger to me..

I cannot blog duing work-hours. This is against my grain and internet cafes' are noisy, crowded spaces...

I got back to the poetry of Mir Taqi Mir - the finest of Urdu poets. Have been humming this ghazal..

Kya kahun tum se main ke kya hai ishq,
Jaan ka rog hai, bala hai ishq.

Ishq hi ishq hai jahaan dekho,
Saare aalam mein bhar raha hai ishq.

Ishq maashuq ishq aashiq hai,
Yaani apna hi mubtala hai ishq.

Ishq hai tarz-o-taur ishq ke taeen,
Kahin banda kahin Khuda hai ishq.

Kaun maqsad ko ishq bin pohuncha,
Aarzoo ishq wa mudda hai ishq.

Koi khwaahan nahin mahabbat ka,
Tu kahe jins-e-narawa hai ishq.

Mir ji zarad hote jaate hain,
Kya kahin tum ne bhi kiya hai ishq?

Will translate this for the non Urdu readers but I need time and some light I suppose - this time 'within'

I will reappear tomorrow...